quietmounds | (no subject)

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[The sun doesn't so much as rise as flick on with the sudden, glaring brightness of noon. Whatever time keeping device you have on you says its about 8:14am when this happens.

The power's back, but the time on your timekeeping device never really make sense with the position of the sun as it moves across the sky.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I just thought you might like to lie down.

I wouldn't mind.

Then let's head that way. Assuming the elevator is working.

Thank you, Tristan. You're a darling.

Happy to have made a good impression.

I feel like I learned a lot about you through one conversation. Is that foolish?

. . . not odd. I tend to make up my mind about people pretty quickly.

After a while, you start to, don't you?

Oh? I guess I don't talk to many other people who live awfully long, in that regard . . . you think the same?

Of course, every culture has its own set of social behaviors and flags and assumptions, but... nevertheless you sort of start to adopt a shorthand. Your first impulse to see me as a child was to soothe and protect me in a situation where there was nothing to gain, so that means something. And that's only one aspect of our interactions.

You know?

[. . . exhales, a little flushed. not that Mikk can see.]

It makes sense.

I think I could have listened to you speak for ages, even when you were young. Now, even more so.

Oh goodness. I'm getting flattered, and so is my younger self. How am I to handle that?

Oh, gracefully, I'm sure.

I'll endure.

We're almost at the elevator, aren't we? Your place or mine?

I suppose we'll find out wherever the elevator deposits us?

I haven't decorated at all, but on the up side, that does mean it's clean.

[where DO we end up]

[I mean, you probably don't want to thread with Kieran, so how about your room]

We could break it in a little?

Oh, I'd love to.

[hits the button]

We also could—I mean. Just chat for a bit. Especially if you're not feeling up to it.

[brushing some of Mikk's red hair back from his eyes, gently]

I also love conversation. Genuinely, that also sounds lovely.

[he still has them closed, at least until they're in an apartment with the curtains drawn]

. . .

[leans in to kiss him briefly, before stepping into the apartment]

Oh!

[kisses back quite eagerly]

[—a little startled at that, lingering, lips soft, with that palpable sense of charm and warmth and arousal]

[smiles, leading him in and going over to the curtains to draw them before he opens his eyes. The pigment has drained from his whites, though his irises are still a dark purple instead of their usual light lavender, and his whites are bloodshot and sore-looking]

There we are, then.

[brushing his knuckles against his cheek, looking at him]

Blessing and a curse, huh?